Absentmindedly
by inspire-the-writer-x3
Summary: After a particularly bad case, all Morgan wants to do is forget. But forgetting about certain things, like Reid's ugly argyle sweater vests and his kind honey-coloured eyes is especially difficult. And with a new case in their hands, the last thing Morgan wants is to be distracted. / Slash.
1. Drinking To Stop The Thinking

**Hello! :)**

**There are several reasons why Criminal Minds has recently become one on my favourite shows, and I've realised that the chemistry between Morgan and Reid is incredible is probably the main reason. **

**I've read quite a few Morgan/Reid fics here and most are very well written – but here's my shot at it. I'm pretty proud of this. Not sure where it's going right now but hey, it'll be cool if you guys are along for the ride.**

**Oh and this is all my own work – any similar material to other works are just coincidences.**

**Enjoy! And if you like it and would like it to be continued, please leave a review!  
**

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_Thomas Merton once wrote: "Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it with another."  
_

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**CHAPTER ONE: Drinking To Stop The Thinking**

He's not meant to be thinking.

That's the whole purpose of why Morgan's at the local loud, crowded Pittsburgh club; downing tequila shots as if they were water. He doesn't want to think about their most recent case. He doesn't want to remember the pictures of the gruesome rape and murders of four teenage boys. He doesn't even want to know the truth of how the case ended – how a fifth victim was killed right in front of him, because he pulled the trigger a fraction of a second too late.

But he does; he can still see thing so clearly – even in the poor lighting of the basement they had found the UnSub in.

Morgan feels a tap on his shoulder, and he bets it's another girl asking him if he wants to dance with them. There have been quite a few tonight and he really isn't in the mood for soft curves and strawberry shampoo. He just wants to forget about his week here, kill a few hours with some sleep, and board the plane tomorrow for Quantico.

"Morgan,"

He sighs and his head is starting to throb in a way where he knows he's had too much to drink. Shifting his stance slowly so as to not to intensify his headache, he meets concerned honey-coloured eyes.

"Are you alright?" Reid asks, chewing on his lip as he does.

Morgan lets out a bitter laugh, throwing back another drink vigorously. The liquid burns his throat a little, but he's used to the pain now.

"What do you want, kid?"

There's a flash of shock on Reid's pale face, before he frowns and crosses his lanky arms over his chest. Morgan's aware that there's a 'no profiling each other' rule but he ignores it.

"To make sure you're alright," he answers simply. "I thought that was obvious,"

"Kid, this is like – my seventh shot?" Morgan gestures to his glass, "Doesn't take a genius to know if I'm okay or not,"

The music is loud and Morgan isn't entirely sure if Reid's heard what he's said, because he doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes a seat next to Morgan and orders himself a coke.

"You really shouldn't drink anymore Morgan," Reid suggests. He's shouting over the buzzing music and the sound of cheers and laughter, but Morgan can detect sincerity in his voice.

"I had food before this," Morgan rebuts, ordering a beer this time, "I'll be fine,"

Reid stirs his coke with the thin straw in his drink before taking small, careful sips. Morgan watches him tuck a stray strand behind his ear; a habit of his when he's concentrating hard on whatever text he's reading in front of him, or when he's thinking about the right way to phrase whatever he's about to say next. He's only had that new, trendy hair cut – the one with the clean-cut sides and curly top – for a few weeks now and it's already getting unkempt; yet oddly enough, Morgan wants to push the locks to tidy and mess it up at the same time.

"You know, when ingested, alcohol is absorbed into the bloodstream through the stomach and the small intestine. The presence of food in the stomach does reduce the rate at which the alcohol is absorbed into our system; however it doesn't prevent intoxication. In fact, all alcohol consumed will –"

"Not the time for your rambling, pretty boy," Morgan squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples gingerly. "I can barely process my own words before they leave my mouth,"

Reid doesn't reply when he spots Hotch and Rossi coming over to the bar.

"I think I'm too old for the club scene nowadays," Rossi chuckles, patting Morgan's back. "I'm going to head back to the hotel,"

"And I'm taking him because it's time I get some sleep too," Hotch smiles. He doesn't do it often, but when he does, it definitely takes you surprise.

"See you later then," Morgan gruffly farewells. He returns to his drink and overhears Reid apologising on behalf of him for his behaviour.

"The case was definitely a difficult one, especially given Morgan's past," Hotch reasons, "I'll let Morgan know he can take some personal time if he needs in the morning,"

And with that, Rossi and Hotch leave the club.

"Did you hear that?"

Morgan raises an eyebrow at him, ignoring his question as he gets up to leave. Reid realises he isn't going to get anything except blank looks and vague answers from Morgan, but that doesn't stop him from trying. So, instinctively, he stands and reaches an arm out and encircles his skinny fingers around Morgan's muscular arm.

Morgan's breath hitches. He isn't sure why and he sure isn't going to question it because most of his brain has already shut down for the day. The rational side of his brain – or what's left of it – decides that because Reid isn't a very touchy-feely person, so he, clearly, is overcome with surprise that he had initiated the physical contact.

"Stop being so stubborn," Morgan slurs out.

Ah, he can definitely see the effects of the alcohol now.

"I'm not," Reid defends, "I'm just trying to be a friend and help you in your time of inebriation,"

"Really? And how about all the times you've done things solo?" Morgan bites out. His body is now completely angled with Reid's – perhaps a little too close since their chests are almost touching – and he feels angry. "You could've been killed countless times, Reid, and I let you put yourself in danger because I _trust_ you. Could you maybe do the same for me?"

It's silent for a moment, but it's broken when Morgan hears a quiet laugh.

"Countless is a little exaggerated, don't you think?" Reid says, as he ducks his head; suddenly finding his shoes more interesting than Derek's face.

Even though the only source of light in the vicinities were the strobe lights and the dim fluorescent bulbs that gave the whole bar an eerie orange glow, Morgan could see the tips of Reid's ears redden.

And for some strange reason, that cracks a tiny smile on Morgan's face.

"I don't want to think about all the times I've almost lost you, pretty boy,"

The words come out more sombre than he intended them to be. Reid tries to hide his disbelief when he realises Morgan says 'I' instead of 'we', and he doesn't do a very good job at it because even drunk Morgan catches on.

"The BAU wouldn't be the same without you, Spencer," he croaks aloud. Somehow, his slurring of speech has diminished considerably and his thoughts are clearer than ever now when Morgan just lets things naturally roll of his tongue – especially the younger agent's first name.

One of Reid's adorable toothy grins spreads itself across his face and Morgan feels a little dizzier than before. But as soon as he sees it, it's gone again, as Reid clears his throat and releases his grip on him – one that Morgan had long forgot about.

"Thanks…Derek," Reid responds. Hesitation laces his voice – as if he isn't quite sure whether to believe Morgan or not. "I'm going to head back to the hotel now. Have a good night,"

Reid's shoulder brushes against Morgan's arm and these weird prickly sensations abruptly arise at the contact. Morgan's eyelids want to close now and his ability to see Reid becomes a bit hazy, but before the genius is completely out of his line of sight, Reid turns around swiftly; hair tousling to the side a little and shouts: "Don't drink anymore though, Morgan!"

Morgan lets out a dry laugh, watching Reid's form leave the club. Before he can even turn around and order a glass of water, a flock of blonde girls, clad in low-cut dresses, offer to buy Morgan a drink for a dance. He can't seem to form a coherent 'yes' or dazzle them brilliantly with what Garcia calls his 'panties-dropping' grin, so he just nods and gestures to the empty seat beside him.

Talking to the girls is easy enough, even when he's ready to admit he really shouldn't be having the extra beer. They don't delve into any substantially complex topics and Morgan just has to smile and they'll giggle and touch him in a way he doesn't really want tonight. He thinks he's hallucinating a few times because sometimes, when he doesn't blink straight away, he can almost see a familiar someone with pale skin and kind eyes sitting in place of the girls, still drinking his coke.

Eventually, he excuses himself and buys the girls a free round of shots to say 'thanks for the free drink' and 'sorry for not sleeping with any of you tonight'. He may be drunk, but Morgan is still a gentleman. They all seem a little disappointed but he doesn't stick around for them to reply.

The night air hits him like a tonne of bricks; his teeth chatter slightly and he immediately regrets his choice of coming out tonight without a jacket – or coming out at all. But the promise of white sheets and a hot shower call for him, so Morgan bears with the cold and slowly walks back to the hotel; his thoughts of his horrific week being replaced with images of a certain genius and his ugly argyle sweater vests.

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**So what do you guys think? Should I continue this? As mentioned before, not sure where this is going right now but whatever it is, it shall consist of delicious Morgan/Reid hehe.**

**Also, constructive criticism is appreciated – as well as praises and compliments haha ;)  
inspire-the-writer-x3**


	2. Crooked

**Hi guys!**

**I just want to thank everyone who left such positive comments on my first ever fic for Criminal Minds :) It really makes my day.**

**Also, there are less Morgan and Reid moments in this chapter than anticipated, mainly because this chapter introduces a new case. But I promise they'll be more next chapter!**

**And just to clarify before you read – I do like Blake. She's cool and helpful with her background in linguistics. However, Prentiss is one of my favourite characters (after Reid of course), and I was so sad to see her go, so I had to include her in this story. **

**Enjoy!**

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_T.S Eliot once wrote: "Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act, falls the shadow."_

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**CHAPTER TWO: Crooked **

The next time Reid catches Morgan's eye isn't long after that night in Pittsburgh. They're back in Quantico, catching up on what seems like endless amounts of paperwork and he hates to admit it, but he's kind of hoping a case comes up so he doesn't have to be stuck at his desk all day.

It isn't even eleven in the morning yet and Morgan's already sick of writing up cases, so he gets up, stretches his muscular arms in the air, and then heads to the break room.

He pretends to not know that the tall, slender man is also in the break room, even though his skinny frame captured his attention through the window of his own office a few minutes ago. As he walks in, he sees the genius add the regular sugars into his coffee; its amount still obscene to Morgan. His eye catches onto the burgundy tie Reid has on today, and he realises that it's kind of crooked. He shakes his head and continues with his mission.

"Hey," Morgan says. He wants to come off as nonchalant, as he heads towards the coffee machine, but his voice comes out much quieter than he had anticipated.

"Morning," Reid replies. He doesn't lift his head up, but Morgan can see the corners of Reid's lips twitch as he stirs his coffee with a plastic spoon. He isn't sure if Reid's smile is from his coffee or his presence, but he likes to think it's because of him.

"The paperwork is killing me, kid," Morgan groans. He takes a long sip of his coffee as he watches Reid turn around and lean against the counter with his own drink. "Mind if I slip you some of my files?"

Reid snorts.

"Like that's ever stopped you before,"

Morgan opens his mouth to say something; mostly along the lines of what Reid thinks really does matter to him – that, really, if it bothered him that much, he might just slip Prentiss some – but a familiar blonde pokes her head in with a stack of paper in her hands before he's able to.

"Sorry to interrupt your coffee break, but we've got a case," JJ says; a noticeably sad look on her face. Morgan could just tell this case would be difficult and strenuous, shooting Reid a worried look. He just nods in acknowledgement and the two of them follow JJ to find the others in the conference room, and hurriedly takes their appropriate seats.

"Okay my sugar cakes, you better take a seat and buckle your seat belts because this one's going to be one hell of a ride," Garcia announces and directs the team's attention to the screen. "Over the past two weeks, three men have been found dumped at the famous Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco. All three men were strangled and then beaten repeatedly post mortem. There were also bite marks and other evidence of sexual assault on their down-under regions, but the lab's still working on whether the activity was consensual or not,"

"The beatings show a large amount of anger. This UnSub must've been remarkably fit to have both strangled _and _beaten his victims," Prentiss suggests.

"Well we're definitely looking for one guy," Morgan points out, leaning back in his chair as he strokes his stubble. He has been meaning to shave that thing for a while now. "Blonde hair, blue eyes – the UnSub definitely has a type,"

"Garcia, who were the victims and when were they found?" Hotch asks; eyebrows furrowed.

"The first victim, Thomas Duncan was a thirty-one year old plumber; found by tourists approximately two months ago. Five weeks after, twenty-six year old environmental lawyer Robert Webb was found at the same location, killed in the same manner. The last victim, Nicholas Loft was found yesterday. He's currently twenty-nine years old and unemployed; his last record of employment was for a construction firm in Arizona,"

"There doesn't seem to be any connections amongst the victims career-wise and they don't look like they had any direct connection to the Palace of Fine Arts…" Rossi remarks, "But I wonder…what makes this place so important to the UnSub?"

"The Palace of Fine Arts was originally constructed by architect Bernard R. Maybeck for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition. Although it's only purpose at the time was to exhibit art, it remained due to popular demand and is now only one of the few still-standing structures from the Exposition. The Palace was rebuilt in 1965 and most other renovations were only completed in 2009," Reid explains, "Perhaps an involvement, or on the contrary, a rejection from the art community has something to do with why he chooses to dump his victims here,"

Reid lifts his head as he says his last sentence; his amber-coloured eyes twinkling. Morgan wanted to laugh or even tease the kid a little on how excited he got over his facts, but he withheld himself. It's definitely not the time to joke about Reid when some potential psychopath is on the loose.

"Or the Palace is important in fulfilling his fantasy," JJ ponders aloud.

"The time between each kill is getting shorter, and judging by these photos, the injuries on each victim seems worse than the one before," Morgan scowls; refocusing his attention off of Reid's crooked tie, and back onto the case in front of him.

"He's escalating," Hotch frowns as he gathers his files and gets up from his seat. "Wheels up in thirty,"

* * *

The plane ride from Quantico to San Francisco is almost six hours. Morgan believes that this is more than enough time to place his headphones on and catch up on some much-needed sleep. He reaches over to his bag on the floor and takes out his MP3 player; glancing around the plane.

The team had spent at least two hours at the beginning of the flight going over the case files that Garcia had sent over on their tablets, so they were fully up to speed when they met with the local police later that afternoon. It definitely isn't the first time they've seen this kind of erratic and brutal behaviour, so the team throws around some suggestions to fully grasp the reasons and triggers for the crime, until they're all out of ideas.

"Time is of an essence here. It's only a matter of days – maybe even hours – before another body turns up," Hotch points out, "When we arrive, Reid and Rossi – visit the M.E and see what else you can find out about the bodies. Prentiss and Morgan – check out where the victims were dumped; there may be some significance to the Palace that we've missed in these photographs. JJ and I will go to the station and talk to the victim's families,"

Morgan scans the room and smiles when he sees Prentiss' slumbering head roll over onto Hotch's stiff shoulders. He pretends not to notice as he re-reads the background history on the victims, but Morgan is an excellent profiler and can see traces of a smirk on Hotch's otherwise serious face. Sometimes, it takes a few reminders of the fact that Hotch is happy with Beth, and he wonders if Prentiss needs a wake-up call too.

He shakes his head, knowing very well he shouldn't be profiling his colleagues. His eyes shift to Rossi whose face is solemn as he sleeps; his hands clasped together on top of his stomach. Morgan wonders where JJ is, because he distinctly remembers that she was sitting next to Rossi a few minutes ago, but figures she's moved to get herself a drink or maybe into a seat on the other side for some quiet time.

What really gets to Morgan – so much so that he can't stay still – is how the FBI resident genius' tie is _still _not straight. Surely Reid's been to the bathroom in the last few hours, admired his pretty little face and preppy outfit in the mirror and realised he needed to touch-up, right? Morgan bites his lip; unsure of why it's bothering him so much. He could just casually reach over and fix it when they're off the plane, and then tease Reid about which pretty girl has got him all sloppy and unkempt.

He quickly steers clear of this topic, which is surely going to frazzle his brain, because he needs all his attention on this case. He's about to place his headphones over his ears when JJ places a Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee onto the table in front of him.

"For interrupting your earlier coffee break," she smiles, "Plus, I have a very bad feeling this case is going to cost us a lot of rest for the next few days,"

"Thanks. And yeah, me too," Morgan breathes, feeling JJ pat his shoulder comfortingly. He watches her return to her seat before he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him away.

* * *

Reid wasn't kidding when he said that The Palace of Fine Arts only stuck around because everyone loved the building. Prentiss and Morgan get out of the car and Prentiss doesn't even try to hide his face when she sees the regal structures in rustic earthy tones.

"This place is beautiful," Prentiss murmurs, "Who would want to dump bodies here?"

"Maybe the UnSub wanted to ruin the clean image of this place?" Morgan suggests weakly. It's an unlikely reason, but not impossible.

They walk, flash their badges at the officers by the police tape and duck their heads under to head towards the dumpsite. Prentiss continues to admire the beauty of the architecture, and Morgan thinks he's being discreet but Prentiss can see he's equally marvelling the Palace. They pass by a pool of water that surrounds the Rotund, and the agents wish they could've come here with the others under different circumstances.

"You must be from the FBI," a middle-aged man grins. He's dressed in a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows – much like how Reid dresses – and black slacks. "I'm Detective Hunter,"

"I'm Morgan, and this is Prentiss," Morgan greets, taking off his sunglasses and shaking the detective's hand. Prentiss does the same. "Can you show us where the bodies were found?"

"Course. The bodies were all discovered, lying down with their arms across their chest, between six and nine AM in this exact location. Tourists spotted the first two victims and alerted us, while the last was reported by a passing local,"

"Arms across the chest...that's a classic sign of remorse. Any leads so far?" Prentiss questions, but the detective shakes his head.

Morgan crouches down, examining where the bodies were laid, as he feels the clicks and flashes of cameras by the CSU work behind him.

"The UnSub must've dumped these bodies at night," Morgan states, "There's no way he could've left a dead body in a crowded and much-loved city monument without looking remotely suspicious,"

"I'm still lost on why he chose this place," Prentiss muses, "Were the bodies dumped on dates that mark some sort of importance in the art world?"

"Not sure," Detective Hunter exhales, "However, the Palace hasn't been used for art exhibitions in a very long time. These days, it's allowed to be rented for musical events, weddings and the like,"

"So maybe there's no relevance to the art world at all?"

"Maybe not," the Detective answers. "To be sure though, I've got my men interviewing those who have hired the Palace in the last month. They might've used the functions as an undercover agenda to scope out the sites before dumping the bodies here,"

"That's a good start," Prentiss smiles. "It'd also be worth checking out local art galleries and museums to see if there's a connection between the dates of the bodies dumped and art history,"

Prentiss isn't even done talking before Morgan's dialling his phone to his favourite blonde.

"Hey baby girl, ready to work me some magic?" he smirks. Emily lets out a short laugh and it kind of reminds him of pretty boy's snort earlier this morning.

"You know I'm always ready for you, sweet cheeks," Garcia giggles enthusiastically, "Shoot,"

"I need you to see what you can get on the dates the bodies were found. Maybe they had some sort of importance to the art world, like births or deaths of iconic artists or particular periods?"

"That's going to be a pretty broad search since art has been around for centuries, but boy, do I love a challenge," she growls and Morgan raises his eyebrow with amusement. He hears the clicking of the keyboard and has faith that Garcia will find something.

"Okay, so I've a found couple of dates of interest. The three dates coincide with the birth or deaths of a few artists and sculptors…but nada on any big art movements or art tragedies,"

"Alright, cross reference those on your list with those situated in the San Francisco area. The Palace isn't one of the most highly sought out art monuments, so I'm guessing the UnSub might have a personal connection to it,"

"Cross referencing it right now…and still a handful of names, my sweet,"

"Try narrowing it down again by seeing if one artist has a connection to all these three dates. Maybe it's a day he sold his first painting or the day he was born, or when the artist was first married,"

"Okay, gorgeous, give me a second…and my, I think you've just hit the jackpot. Turns out that the dates of the victims all correlate to one Joe Franz. Franz was a student at the San Francisco State University till he dropped out in 2003 to pursue a career in art. He became a local artist from then on out. And apart from a DUI back in 2000, he's pretty clean,"

"Alright, do you have an address for this guy, Garcia?"

"Oh honey, you know I do," Garcia playfully retorts. "But unfortunately, Franz died back in 2005 on the…oh god, the same day the first body was found. The local newspaper wrote about it and says the police only found him in his art studio and immediately ruled the death to be accidental. The M.E report says that he had slipped on a ladder while grabbing some supplies; the blow to the head causing immediate death. The funeral only consisted of his immediate family and some friends he made in college, and was held on the twenty-second of November 2005,"

"The twenty-second…that was when the second victim was discovered," Emily sighs.

"Okay Mama, I want you to compile a list of all those that attended the funeral and other people who Franz may have been in close contact with and then run background checks on them," Morgan instructs. His ears detect an affirmative response, and he continues. "Maybe the UnSub is unhappy that they had come too late and felt like they were disrespecting the artist. What do you have on the third victim's date?"

"Looking now…and…bingo! After the death of his parents, he lived with his aunt for almost a year before he was put into foster care. The papers were completed on the fourteenth,"

"When and how did the parents die?" Prentiss adds.

"It was…oh dear god, they were involved in a car crash back in 1992 exactly three days from today. Franz was only ten when it happened,"

"That must be when the next body is going to turn up. Thanks baby girl," Morgan says. He snaps his phone shut and quickly gestures to the Detective to head back to the station with them.

As they walk back to the car, Prentiss informs Detective Hunter on Garcia's findings and how the crimes may be related to a specific San Francisco artist. Morgan's mind is somewhere else though, and as he buckles his seat belt, he decides that if Reid still hadn't fixed that tie of his, Morgan will have to take care of it himself.

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**This, actually, turned out _much_ longer than I expected. I'm pretty proud, because in my most of my experiences, I don't comfortably write chapters that are more than 2000 words. **

**Also, I don't live in America, so I've done quite a bit of research and tried my best to be as accurate as possible with the geography of the case, but I do apologise for any geographical mistakes. Additionally, the Palace of Fine Arts and San Francisco does not belong to me; though names of artists, victims, etc. are completely made up.**

**I've already started Chapter 3 it includes a particularly cute Morgan/Reid scene (hehe), so leave me a review on what you thought of this chapter and hopefully I'll be able to update soon!**

**inspire-the-writer-x3**


	3. Dinner For Two

**Once again, thank you to all those who reviewed, story alerted, etc. this story! You guys are awesome and push me to stop procrastinating and actually finish and post a chapter. I know it's been a month since I've updated but I hope this Morgan/Reid content will make up for it!**

**Also, just so there's no confusion, I've taken quotes from old Criminal Minds' episodes and placed them at the beginning of my chapters to reflect on what the chapter includes and what it's meant to mean. So if the quotes seem familiar, it's probably because they are!**

**And please review! It makes me happy :)**

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_Francis Bacon once said: "In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present."_

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**CHAPTER THREE: Dinner For Two**

When they return to the station, there's an odd ambience in the room. Morgan's eyes first land on Hotch, who's interviewing one of the victim's families. In the room next door, he sees JJ is trying to calm a pacing man who angrily circles around the room. And from the corner of his eye, he can detect Rossi's form behind a plane of glass a few doors down, comforting a mother who is mourning the loss of her son. Morgan sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. This was one of the worst parts of their job – perhaps even worse than the dead, destroyed bodies they encountered and thinking of the torture the victims endured prior to death. He knows what it's like to have a loved on ripped away from you in an instance.

On the other hand, Reid is on the opposite side of the room, drawing and marking on a large map attached to the cork-board. His hair is dishevelled and he's biting his lip; Morgan could see that Reid was already working intensely on the case. Sometimes, it's hard for Morgan to register how young Reid is and how the awkward boy who had first joined the bureau in his early twenties has suddenly evolved into something _more _than your typical rambling nerd.

"Find anything interesting at the morgue?" Prentiss asks, standing beside Reid.

"Not really. The lab results came back and it seems that the first victim was the only one who didn't have any bite marks. The other two had bite marks and experienced a vast amount of rape and mutilation to the genitalia prior to the strangulation," Reid says, "All three bodies were killed approximately twelve hours before discovery, so we can confirm that the UnSub operates at night,"

Morgan catches the most important bits of Reid's reply, but he misses most of it as his eyes trail down Reid's prominent cheekbones to his long neck, where his tie is now – thankfully; for his sanity – fixed.

"What did the toxicology reports say?"

"The report states that they didn't find anything in their bloodstream, but the M.E said that it is possible that the last two victims ingested a drug that didn't show up during the autopsy; say – perhaps – a date-rape drug, which is metabolised rapidly by the body to avoid detection,"

"So the UnSub drugs, rapes and kills the men…and _then _beats him? The overkill doesn't make any sense if there's no connection amongst the victims," Prentiss mumbles, chewing on her pen.

"Well the UnSub might be basing his kills on momentous dates for the San Francisco artist Joe Franz. I'm getting Garcia to run a background check on all of his associates before he died as we speak,"

"Okay, so right now, we're looking for a homosexual man who relates to Joe Franz?" Detective Hunter says with disbelief. "Are we sure it isn't a woman with a vendetta against Franz that's doing this?"

"Actually, death by strangulation is one of the most uncommon means of killing for women; they prefer to choose less-violent options such as poison and prescription pills. This is mainly because it takes a huge amount of endurance and strength to continue applying the required pressure to the trachea in order to reduce enough oxygen to the brain, so it's most likely that a male is committing these crimes," Reid explains, gesturing his hands in the air as he does.

The gentle clicks of the interrogation room doors are heard and Morgan turns his head to see Hotch and JJ farewelling the families of the victims. He sighs and hopes he can catch this son of a bitch before anyone else is hurt.

"The families JJ and I interviewed said there were no indications on their sons being homosexual,"

"From his sister told me, when Nicholas Loft wasn't trying to find a job, he was hitting the bars and chatting up anything in a skirt," JJ adds.

"Strange…" Rossi scowls, strolling over to the team, "Because the parents of the first victim, Duncan, had just come out to them a few weeks ago at their monthly family dinner. Said that he seemed nervous but content when he told them; like the man was in love,"

"Maybe the first victim was involved with the UnSub, and that was the trigger?" Prentiss proposes. "And he had so much fun with the kill, he couldn't help his urges so he began targeting random people?"

"That hypothesis is consistent with why the first victim is the only one who had consensual sexual intercourse with the UnSub and no defensive wounds…"

There is a moment of quiet as the profilers attempt to wrap around the information and clues the UnSub has left in order to deduce an appropriate explanation to his actions, and then hopefully, catch him before someone else is found dead. JJ places her hands on her hips, deep in thought; opening her mouth again when she's ready to speak.

"Spence, have you gotten anything on where the bodies were killed before being dumped?"

Morgan shifts his gaze onto Reid, who blinks twice before shooting a sneaky smile at the blonde and then turns away to point out what he's concluded so far. Now, you don't have to remind Morgan on the fact that JJ has Will and Henry and that she's very happy with her life, and that Reid got over his crush on JJ a long time ago, but sometimes, he really doesn't like how close they are. There seems to be some unspoken bond between the two; like the ones between siblings. Morgan doesn't want to admit it, but he kind of envies what they have, and what he has yet to have with Reid.

"Morgan? Are you okay? …Morgan?" Prentiss repeats. He shakes his head and he meets two concerned brown eyes that don't exactly belong to who he was expecting.

"Yeah, I'm here. I was just thinking, sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked you if you wanted some coffee? I could really go for a large mug of it right about now,"

"I think I've had enough for today," Morgan chuckles, thinking back to the black coffee he had on the plane and the cup he had with Reid earlier in the morning. Prentiss turns away to check on the others, so he takes the chance and sneaks a glance at Reid and his scrunched brows as he reads over the files Garcia's surely sent over by now.

"Hey genius, did you want some coffee?"

"Emily's already asked me, and before you ask, yes, I did say I wanted some," Reid smiles - lifting his head off from the pages in his lap – and Morgan finds himself smiling right back.

* * *

The sun is well gone and the team is nowhere closer to where they had originally been. In the past few hours, Reid and JJ went through the people Franz had the most contact with before he passed but no one suspicious seemed to stand out. Even when Hotch suggested that the UnSub might have served time for crimes such as assault and battery beforehand because of the violent nature of the crimes, they came up empty. This eliminated the possibility on the killings being revenge against the police who never fully investigated into Franz's death or prevented his parents' deaths.

They were running out of time, and their ability to stay awake – when Rossi suggested that this could be the work of a fanatic. He asked Garcia to compile a list of the fans of Franz's work, basing her list on various means of social media and phone records, but she was having difficulty, since Franz didn't use any social media, apart from exchanging emails with a couple of art collectors and a few close associates.

It's past midnight now, and Hotch decides the team should retire for the night. They're not staying at some fancy hotel this time around. Instead, they stay at a small family-owned establishment that's only about a ten minutes drive from the station. Hotch warns that they could be on call at anytime for this case, which is why he asked Garcia to book a hotel for their convenience, and not luxury. As expected, no one on the team had a problem with this, because this was the job.

When the team get to the hotel, they check in immediately and Hotch distributes the key cards. They were all on the same level, but because of the last-minute nature of the case, the only available rooms could not be booked next to each other.

"With the budget cuts going on, we'll all have to share. Rossi and I will be in room 402; JJ and Prentiss will share room 406 and Morgan and Reid will be in 411. We'll meet in the lobby at seven to head to the station together," Hotch instructs. The elevator doors open and the team, carrying bags in their hands, exit in the midst of yawns. "I know it's been a long day and you've all been working hard, so get some rest. See you tomorrow morning,"

Rossi, Hotch, Prentiss and JJ turn left to their rooms, while Reid and Morgan turn right. Morgan strides to his room with a fast pace – clearly eager for sleep – unlocks the door with his card. And as soon as he's in the room, he tosses his overnight bag onto the bed and collapses onto it, rubbing his face with his hands.

Reid places his bag on the table and Morgan presumes he is headed towards the bathroom, which is confirmed when he hears the tap running. It's gone within a minute and Reid walks over and sits beside Morgan's body.

"So…" he begins, "What do you think the UnSub –"

"Nuh-uh pretty boy," Morgan cuts him off, eyes still shut. "We are not talking about the case tonight,"

"Well," Reid says, biting his lip, "I'm seriously craving some chow mien and I saw a Chinese diner still open when we drove here. Do you want to maybe head up there and grab something to eat? It's only a block away,"

Morgan senses Reid's presence leave him. He smiles quietly to himself, thinking about how much Reid has grown in the past few years. It amazes him how much their friendship has progressed too; it only seemed like yesterday when Morgan would constantly tease Reid on his inability to get a girl and his lack of social skills. But now, he can't imagine life without the pretty boy's presence – without _his _pretty boy's presence.

He gets up now and sees Reid's undone tie lazily hanging around his neck, as he looks for something in his bag with frustration.

"My wallet's easier to get to," Morgan points out, taking his out from his back pocket and throwing it casually onto the table.

"It's alright, I've got it!" Reid jumps, excitingly stuffing his own wallet into the pocket of his corduroy pants. He grabs his key card as well and a scarf from his bag, casually throwing it around his neck like some debonair supermodel. Morgan wants to laugh at the prospect of the nervous, uncoordinated genius in front of him being that – although he did have the legs for it.

Speaking of said legs, one is currently holding the door open. Reid's eyes glistened behind his shaggy hair as he raised an eyebrow at Morgan.

"You coming?"

Morgan closes his eyes, ignoring the kid, but his stomach ultimately gives him up in the end. He curses as he gets up, grabbing his leather jacket and following after the smug-looking genius.

He figures that if he were going to have to get out of bed for anyone, it'd be for Spencer Reid.

The walk to the diner is short and silent. It isn't awkward though; both agents are tired and aren't in the mood for small talk. The night air is refreshing and it takes Morgan back to the other night in Pittsburgh as he was leaving the club. When he thinks of Reid's stretched neck as he attempts to compete with the rhythmic thuds of the club's music, just so Morgan could hear him, he almost smiles.

They finally reach the diner and Reid takes his hands out of his pockets, rubbing them together. He sits down in a booth; shoulders still hunched. The Chinese diner isn't very big at all. Morgan takes in his surroundings; the air conditioning is on too high and the dirty white tiles don't seem to stop Morgan's leg from shaking. He can faintly smell fried tofu and tangy mustard and he can't believe his ears when he stomach grumbles again at the odd combination. A petite waitress in a red apron sees the two and immediately brings over two laminated menus; both with bent corners and matching coffee stains, and Reid tells them it'll just be a few minutes before they decide what they want to eat.

Morgan watches Reid's eyes scan over the menu; eyebrows knit in concentration. He just makes out the two white teeth biting on his bottom lip, and Morgan realises how plump the flesh looks. His eyebrows lift in disbelief, before he stops looking at Reid and back to the menu.

"I'm done," Reid grins, setting the menu down and clasping his hands together in his lap. "Do you know what you're getting?"

"Uh yeah," Morgan murmurs. He then gestures to the waitress, who hurries over to the men, and when she arrives, he turns to her. "I think I'll just get a glass of water, thanks,"

"Sure," she nods, "And for you, sir?"

"Vegetarian chow mien for me please," Reid beams, "And – "

"Okay, new rule. No more coffee after nine for the kid," Morgan smirks.

"Oh what, that isn't fair Morgan!" Reid whines, "I was only going to have decaf, I swear!"

"Just the water for me and the noodles for him," Morgan winks at the waitress, before adding a 'please and thank you' in his smoothest voice. She finishes scribbling on a pad of paper and flutters away as a giggling mess.

"You know, " Reid laughs, "You've probably made her week,"

"What can I say?" Morgan grins, "I'm a gift to the ladies,"

"No, you're a monster," Reid fake-frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. Morgan is well aware of the double meaning in his words – how Morgan is seriously depriving him of his sugary caffeine needs and how they're both aware of how the poor girl, half in love with Morgan, didn't stand a chance in changing his womanizing ways.

But Morgan just laughs.

"Only for you, pretty boy,"

* * *

**So…what did you guys think of that last Morgan and Reid scene? I have to admit, it's one of my favourite things I've written. And trust me, there's even more to come ;) The next chapter (which is half finished) will basically be **_**all**_** Morgan and Reid…hehe.**

**Anyway, leave me a review on what you thought or if you have any other suggestions and I'll try to use it! Thanks for all your support! X**


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